


A Place Where It's Real

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 5th year angst, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, Feelings Realization, JFC, M/M, NOV 29 - Carry On Prequel, Shower wank, Simon just leave Baz ALONE so he can wank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21613840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: 5th year: Baz finally gets a bit of time to himself, but finds he's still not rid of Simon bloody Snow.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557748
Comments: 16
Kudos: 142
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	A Place Where It's Real

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little ficlet I wrote for today's COC prompt: Carry On prequel. (This is potentially a T rating, but I set it to M just in case.)

**BAZ**

I wake up too late.

That’s how it’s been since the start of term. I always feel like I can’t get enough sleep, and Snow doesn’t give a shit if I wake up on time. He’s not doing me a courtesy by flinging our curtains open every morning, no. 

No, I think he’s starting to suspect. He’s trying to see if the sunlight bothers me…

I suppose I can’t blame him; he _has_ been saddled with a monster for a roommate. It was only a matter of time before he parsed it all out.

It does bother me, the sun. Not like one might _think_. It’s not like it is in Normal books and films. But it does sting, and if Snow banging about our room doesn’t wake me, the sunlight will. 

But not today, even with the sunlight burning through my eyelids… 

I’m just so _tired_. 

Snow has been on my tail for weeks now.

I don’t know how he’s getting any schoolwork done. Not that he’s ever been a decent student, but I’ve never known him to shirk his homework outright. 

I’ve been waiting until he finally falls asleep before I head down to the Catacombs, but he’s caught on to that game, too. Night before last, he pretended he was asleep for hours while he waited for me to leave, so I pretended to be asleep, too, and now we look like a pair of zombies instead of a vampire and an inflammably handsome idiot on a bender. 

Inflammably handsome. That is the cruel joke of it all, isn’t it? It diminishes the amount of insults available to me to the point that I have to resort to belittling his moral fibre. _In defense of the weak_ and all that tosh. Fucking Snow. Fucking _Mage’s Heir._..

Anyway. The inflammably handsome bastard has been on my tail for weeks now, and I’m just not up for it. I’ve missed feeding multiple nights this week because of him, because I can’t let him _see_. Because the second he has confirmation that I’m a vampire, he’ll reveal my secret to everybody. Because Snow’s moral fibre doesn’t apply to _me_. He just thinks vampires are evil, which they are. (Except me.) (I think…)

Most days I don’t think I’m evil; most days I think I was dealt a shit hand. (I leave thinking I’m evil for the days I’m feeling most existentially dramatic.) (How can I _not_ be existentially dramatic when there’s a very distinct possibility that I’ll live forever? Forever’s a long fucking time to be completely and utterly miserable.) (Forever’s a long fucking time to be hopelessly queer, too, though I suppose my father won’t be around to be disappointed in me for too long, in the grand scheme of things…) 

It wouldn’t matter to Snow, whether I’m evil or no. Because I’m a dark creature, and he’d argue that turning me in is a necessity. _Justice_. 

I might let him catch me, if I actually had a death wish. It’d make things easier. It’d certainly be a lot more peaceful.

It seems the only time I get any semblance of solace now is in the mornings. (Barring the open curtains.) Snow still can’t resist being first down to breakfast, even if it means leaving me to my own devices for an hour or so. 

And thank snakes for that. I don’t know what he’d even do with himself if he didn’t go to breakfast. Stand guard outside the en suite while I shit and shave and shower? 

I lock the door to the en suite and cast a spell over it for good measure. Snow may have enough brute force to knock down the door if he wants, but he’s completely incompetent when it comes to using his wand. My spell will hold as long as he doesn’t go supernova on the door. (I wouldn’t put it past him, honestly, though something tells me he saves going off for when he’s up against a more malicious foe than his naked roommate. Even if said roommate is a vampire.) 

It’s not like I’m plotting against him in here; not really. (Though I did add ground rosehip to his school-issued soap second year.) (Dev’s idea; I never should’ve listened to that twit, because as funny and satisfying as it was to watch Snow scratch at himself for days, he paid me right back in kind.)

No, not plotting. I just want a moment of _peace_ , for Crowley’s sake. I’d like one bloody moment without Snow breathing down my neck. I just want to let the hot water soothe the knots from my shoulders…

I wouldn’t mind having a wank either, now I think about it. Because on top of all the other shit this year, I’ve been… _dreaming_. A lot. There’re the normal nightmares, of course. But some nights…

Some nights I dream of Snow, and it’s a bloody damn good thing he’s a mouth-breather and not a mind-reader, because the things he does in my dreams…

Well. He’d end me much faster if he knew.

Kisses. Blood. _Both_. 

Sometimes more. 

I’m not sure what it all means. Or rather, I’m not sure it means anything, other than Snow’s a fit moron and I’m full of raging hormones. Everything would be so much easier if the bloody Crucible would’ve paired me with someone less… _aesthetically pleasing._

It’s driving me half-mad. Not only can I not escape Snow in my sleep; these stupid dreams have also left me sexually frustrated. As if Snow isn’t fucking frustrating enough; the wanker doesn’t leave me alone for one solitary second to, well. Wank. As it were.

I roll my shoulders and neck as the hot water beats down against my skin. I’m smoothing my hands over myself, over my chest, my stomach…

There’s a pleasant, familiar heat pooling low in my belly already, almost like I’ve been spoiling for it. (I probably have been.) I breathe deep and run my hands through my wet hair, tugging a little as I do. I wait until I’m fully hard before I even think about touching myself. It’ll be better, in the end, if I draw it out. 

My heart is pounding between my thighs as I graze my hands slowly over my chest again, down my belly again, down, and down, and down…

My sigh echoes off the shower walls when I finally wrap a hand around myself. It’s not a loud sound, of course, but it’s there, a reminder of what I’m doing. What I’m about to do…

I give myself a few experimental pulls.

And then I let my mind wander. 

It doesn’t come as a surprise when Simon bloody Snow wanders right into my imagination, lips hanging open stupidly, his face flushed. Of course he fucking does; of _course_ I can’t have even five full minutes of peace.

Well. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe if I do this—if I let myself think it, if I let myself come all over my own fist to the thought of Simon Snow…

Maybe the dreams will go away. Maybe I just need to get it out of my system. Just this once. 

I imagine Snow here in our shower with me. He’s taking me by the shoulders and turning me to face him, pushing me back roughly against the wall, delving his tongue into my mouth…

It’s a better use for his mouth than his typical blustering, I’ll give him that. And he’s _warm_ against me, so warm. Every inch of him. He’s holding my face with warm palms, kissing me with a warm mouth, sliding a warm tongue against mine…

It doesn’t take long before my breath’s catching, my knees buckling as I brace myself against the shower wall while my muscles tense and finally release… 

I’m so _tired_ , and warm with pleasure now, and…

I sink to the floor and let the water beat down against my back. Snow hasn’t left my mind. He should’ve done, by now. He served his purpose…

But no. No, he’s still there, still kissing me inside my head. And when he pulls back, he’s smiling this lopsided grin that makes my insides twist.

He’s smiled at me like that before, but only in my dreams. 

And I find…that I’m desperate for him to look at me like that, in a place where it’s _real_. Here, in our room. In class. Across the dining hall at breakfast…

Maybe I’ve been desperate for it for some time. 

That’s when it hits me, sitting alone in my shower— _our_ shower—as the water starts to run cold. 

I close my eyes and hug my legs to me, drop my forehead down onto my knees. My damp hair clings to my skin, and I just want to shake it away.

This isn’t about Snow being _fit_. Or not just. 

I fancy the moron. 

I…

I _fancy_ Simon Snow…

The fucking _Mage’s Heir._

That’s it. _This_ is it. 

It’s almost comical. A fucking cosmic joke.

No. No, no, _no_.

I need to find a way to stop it.

I need to find a way to _end_ it. 

And I will.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) I'm a disaster over there.


End file.
